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<title>Down In The Dumpster by MissMoochy</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29821524">Down In The Dumpster</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy'>MissMoochy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel, Spider-Gwen (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friendship, Gen, Short One Shot, Talking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:00:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29821524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen receives a pep talk from Spider-Ham.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Porker &amp; Gwen Stacy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Down In The Dumpster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Gwen scowled down at her hands. White. Why did her costume have to be white? Already, she was caked in dirt. Ugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a Saturday night and I could be a normal girl, dancing at a party or hanging out with my friends or kissing cute guys but nooo. I’m spending my Saturday, stuck hiding in a dumpster because there are </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy gangsters</span>
  </em>
  <span> after me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Gwennie,” said an obnoxious voice that was instantly familiar. “You had years to be a normal girl and you didn’t go to any parties or kiss any boys. What makes you think that it’s the Spider gig that’s keeping you from living your 90210 fantasies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwen wanted to slap her palm against her face in frustration, but her hand was currently resting on what felt like a pair of used underwear. Gross. She was going to take the most burning-hot shower once she got home. “You again?” she hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me again,” Spider-Ham said, and he sounded about an enthused as she did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Correction: I’m spending my Saturday in a dumpster, hiding from gun-men, with the most annoying talking pig to ever exist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The</span>
  <em>
    <span> only</span>
  </em>
  <span> talking pig to exist. In your universe anyway. Oh, are we in a dumpster? I thought this was your bedroom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a pig, pigs live in stys. Don’t judge me. Anyway, my bedroom’s not as messy as this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You finally took all those mugs back to the kitchen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes but her mask ruined the effect. “Yes. Not that it’s any of your business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I worry about you, Gwen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, right. You just like haunting me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m only here because you wanted me to appear. You wanted to see a friendly face and here I am. I’m all in your head. Which is an even messier place than both this dumpster </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> your bedroom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mind is messy? If it’s so crappy, get out of it. Go back home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wish I could.” The cartoon pig paused. “You have to let me go, Gwen. There are, as you keep saying, gun-toting mooks patrolling the street, looking for you. You shouldn’t be sitting here, shooting the breeze with a cartoon pig.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it smart to wait for them to go? Everybody tells me I’m too impulsive, that I never think, I just rush in. Shouldn’t I wait?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spider-Man waggled his head left and right. “Yes and no. People tell Gwen Stacy to wait, probably because every time she opens her mouth, she sticks her foot in it. But Spider-Woman can’t afford to hesitate. She who hesitates is lost, missy. If you don’t go beat those guys so bad they get the teeny birds flying a circle above their heads, they might go and hurt somebody. Somebody without the gifts of super-strength and your handy-dandy spider-sense. You know what I mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwen said nothing for a moment. Then, she sighed, hugging her knees to her chest. “I’m scared. These guys aren’t like that jerk, The Bodega Bandit. They’re proper tough guys. Sure, I’ve got powers but I’m not a superhero. I’m not a badass. I’m me. I’m Gwen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love to say something really inspiring, but I’m basically a hallucination, Gwen. I can’t say anything that doesn’t already exist in your head. But what I will say is this: no matter what you think about yourself, you’re the best this city’s got. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> this city’s got. So, no matter what you do, even if you mess up, you’re still doing better than all those people who sit and watch and let bad things happen to good people. You’re a good person, Gwen. You’ll find your way. Just do your best and don’t worry about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwen would have replied (and she might have even been gearing up to say something charitable to the porcine thorn in her side) but she was interrupted by voices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard something from inside this dumpster. Let me take a look.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwen steeled herself, hearing the lid creak open. Instead of looking up at the filth underside of the lid, she now saw the royal blue night sky and the squinting face of a gangster.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Hey!” he cried, but he was instantly silenced by a fist to the face. He fell back, stumbling, blindly reaching for the gun tucked into his belt. Gwen leapt from the dumpster and landed on it, balancing perfectly on the rim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second gangster, a short, squat guy, aimed his gun but Gwen kicked it, booted it out of his hand. Where it went was anybody’s guess. It sailed beautifully through the air, a big sweep over the guy’s head. He turned, saw it arc across the sky and cursed but that distraction proved foolish. Gwen webbed his wrists together and kicked him in the chest. He fell back stumbling and fell flat on his keister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwen hopped from foot-to-foot, eyeballing the other guy through her mask. “Gimme what you got, loser,” she sneered, and he threw himself at her. They grappled on the street and there was one heart-pulverising moment when her spider-sense zipped its way up and down her nape, and she realised the jerk was reaching for her mask. But she elbowed him in the gut and webbed him so hard he resembled an Egyptian mummy, cocooned in a greyish wad on the sidewalk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She got to her feet, fired off a quick anonymous text message to her dad to tell him to come and arrest these two dumbasses. When she glanced around, there was nobody around. No masked pig waving cheerily at her. She sighed, and slunk off home.</span>
</p>
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